


Comfort for Old Bones

by Taricha



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taricha/pseuds/Taricha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy's typically the one who comes up with the non-traditional funding methods. This one seems to have backfired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort for Old Bones

"Seriously," Billy said, barging past him, smelling like sweat, "did you pick the stupidest group of newbies you could find?" The younger man opened the fridge door and pulled out a beer, popping the lid off with his belt buckle before settling down at the trailer's tiny table. He pushed his way to the back of the booth and maneuvered the stool in place as a footrest with one hand. The other held the beer bottle to his mouth as he chugged, thin trails of micro brew spilling out of the corners and leaving sticky tracks in the dust on his skin.

"I like to give you a challenge," Alan said mildly, leaning against the fridge and feeling the hum of it through his bones. He was halfway through his own beer. It was his second, not enough to get buzzed but enough to take some of the day's accumulated worries off his shoulders. "Besides, they can't be all that bad. They're enthusiastic, at least."

Billy lowered his beer just long enough to glare, wipe the liquid off of his mouth, and say, "one of them is a cheerleader, Alan." Then he started drinking again, though in separate gulps this time, at least.

Alan hid his smile behind the bottle. "Are you trying to tell me that's a bad thing?"

"When she's on a football field, no," he said, rolling his eyes and kicking off his shoes, the worn leather boots flying off in opposite directions, "but she's also a freshmen and has the fine motor skills of a drunk baby. Alan, I had to take the pick away from her - I was worried she was going to scratch the damn bones!"

Alan chuckled. "You look awfully sweaty for a man who's spent most of the day taking away tools from babies."

"Well they spread themselves all over the damn hill, I had to keep running up and down trying to keep things in order!" He finished his beer and plopped it on the table amidst receipts and dirty paper plates. The table was plastic and frail, and it shuddered with the weight. "You owe me another beer for this."

Alan chuckled. "Relax, Billy, just one more week of volunteers, and then they'll all be out of here. And," he said, pointing with a finger at Billy's chest as he fetched another beer from the fridge, "don't think I've forgotten it was your idea to let them on site in the first place."

Billy moaned as Alan handed him the beer. "Next time I have an idea, shoot me." Their fingers brushed, and Alan's smile grew a little dirtier. He rubbed his thumb across Billy's knuckles as he passed the beer bottle over, letting his eyes trace over sweat trails on dusty skin.

Letting the volunteers in had been one of Billy's better ideas. Their site needed more money, like always, and lately they hadn't even had enough to pay for a full crew. So Billy had suggested that instead of paying their crew, they let their crew pay them for the chance to work alongside the great Dr. Grant. After Alan had wiped the smug look from Billy's face (the one he always got when teasing Alan about their unwanted reputation), he'd taken it under consideration and agreed. So now they had about thirty civilians working under their supervision for T-shirts and the sheer honor of talking to them. Alan had grown tired of the constant comments, flattery and invasive questions after the second day, and spent most of the time hiding in more and more remote locations on the dig site. He was pretty positive Billy had noticed.

"Oh no," Billy said, confirming that fact as he pulled the bottle from Alan, "no sex, not ever again. You left me to defend for myself, for a whole week!"

"And I'm very sorry about it," Alan lied. "Let me make it up to you?"

Alan watched as Billy paused, thinking about it. They'd been together almost two years now, and it was funny how Billy still thought dignity might ever win out over the possibility of a blowjob. Alan could practically see him weighing the two, as if there was ever a doubt, and Alan's lips spread into a slow smile as Billy's legs stretched wide.

He put his bottle down on the table and knelt before the booth, pushing the stool out of the way. The booth was cramped and he had to stretch out over it to reach the younger man. He could feel his shirt tugging up and out of his pants with the move. Billy's eyes darkened, and Alan ran his hands along the inseam of Billy's jeans, pressing in gently where the fabric stretched over his thighs, and then where it tightened over his groin.

He pulled the zipper down, thumbed open the button, and Billy helpfully lifted his hips as Alan tugged both jeans and boxers off, dragging them down and letting Billy kick them off.

Billy's leg hair was blond and soft, and Alan traced circles with his thumbs on Billy's inner thigh, then placed a kiss at the junction of the hip and leg. The skin there was thin and always bruised easily, so Alan was gentle with his teeth as he sucked. Above him, he heard Billy groan, and then strong hands found their way into Alan's thinning hair.

"Careful," Alan said, letting his breath gust over the head of Billy's dick, watching in amusement as it twitched, "I'm not sure it would grow back if you pulled any out."

"Bald men are sexy," Billy said, but he loosened his grip, pulling at Alan's head rather than tugging at his hair. "Come on, Alan, please? It's been a week!"

And who's fault is that? Alan thought, but he relented, running his tongue up the underside of Billy's cock, hearing Billy's head collide with the trailer wall at the touch. Alan didn't bother to hurry: the younger man complained a lot about it, but he did get off on being teased. He licked slowly and carefully, tracing his tongue around the head, his fingers inching slowly upwards.

The desert soil wasn't coarse enough to be called sand, making it twice as pervasive and maddening. It managed to invade every nook and cranny, and after a week or two there wasn't an inch of skin or cloth that wasn't coated in it. Billy tasted like clay and salt, like 100 million years of accumulated erosion. Of course, Alan was a paleontologist who preferred the field to the lab, so it wasn't as if that was a turnoff. On the contrary, Alan could feel his erection practically drilling a hole in the side of the bench, the thin fabric of his briefs barely protecting him from the bite of the zipper.

One of Billy's hands slipped to Alan's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Looking up, Alan saw that Billy was watching him with wide eyes, his mouth open and panting. Alan closed his mouth around the head of Billy's dick, pressing his tongue against the underside, and rolled Billy's balls in his hand. The younger man groaned, his hips jerking upwards in a move that, if Alan hadn't been expecting it, would have led to some unpleasant gagging.

"God," Billy said, his eyes shining and unfocused, "oh God, Alan, that feels so good."

Alan slid down and back up, letting Billy's babbled praise guide his movements. Billy had never been quiet during sex, even in the beginning when this had all been new, all been delicate. Now it was less groaning and more explicit conversation, like his tongue was finally free enough to give words to what had once been too difficult to name. Alan liked it, liked that Billy couldn't keep it all inside, and his own erection throbbed in time with Billy's increasingly inane comments.

When Billy's commentary degenerated into repeated utterances of Alan's name and cuss words, Alan tightened his mouth and slid one finger back, circling it around Billy's entrance. Billy let out a low, hitching moan, and came as Alan pressed just the tip inside. Alan's eyes shut and he swallowed, the taste not pleasant but familiar and gratifying nonetheless.

Wide hands pulled him up, and the younger man kissed him until he was breathless. Alan found his shirt suddenly pulled up and out of his pants, and then Billy fumbled with his belt and slid his hands inside Alan's underwear. Alan nudged his hips forward until his cock found Billy's palm, and his eyes slid shut as Billy's fingers closed and began to tug. He pressed his face blindly into Billy's neck, and his mouth opened against warm skin. Billy tasted like sweat and hard work, and Alan muffled his groan with the younger man's skin as he came, as hard and fast as he ever did when Billy was involved.

He was unsurprised when Billy wiped his hand off on Alan's shirt, but Alan kissed him anyway. A week of silence and peace was worth both the fun and the mess of make-up sex.

"Don't think that this means you're forgiven," Billy warned, though the soft press of his lips to Alan's temple didn't precisely back up his ominous tone. "Even the cheerleader is better than Gustofson." Billy snorted, and his fingers gently traced over the exposed skin of Alan's lower back as his other arm came up to hold him. "The man has so far tried to plaster cast at least three rocks, and I only just caught him before he swung a rockhammer at a potential skull."

"You are a master of patience," Alan agreed sleepily, wrapping his arms around Billy's waist. The booth wasn't exactly comfortable, particularly on old bones, but he made do.

"You'd better believe it, and tomorrow you get to practice it, because I am taking a day off."

Alan's eyes flipped back open. "You're what?"

"Oh, you thought I'd let you leave me to those morons for another week?" Billy laughed. "Not a chance. Tomorrow, I am coming down with a cold. Then you'll see exactly how funny it is to leave someone alone with all of them." He sounded smug, and Alan sighed.

"You are a cruel man, Billy Brennan," he said, resigned.

"You know it," Billy agreed. "Now, lets go to bed before you start whining about your back cramping up, old man. You'll need a lot of sleep to deal with tomorrow."

Alan sighed, but he got up and let Billy take him by the hand into the back of the trailer. Outside, the sun had gone down and he could hear the distant sounds of drunken laughter from their volunteer group. Out here the night got chilly, but the desert air never left his bones aching like the city did. The wrinkles of the bed hid two week's accumulated dirt, but the sheets were still soft against his skin and Billy was warm and sleepy in his arms, and it was easy for Alan to forget the trials of tomorrow in the comforts of tonight.

Between one soft kiss to Billy's bare shoulder and another, he fell into sleep. When he dreamed, it was of curly hair and familiar places, and the dinosaurs stayed far away.


End file.
